


Poor Boy

by AthingcalledR



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Headcanon, High School, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Stanley was a bad bad man, Teen Angst, and just beats the shit out of him, at least he made a friend, grabs this poor boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthingcalledR/pseuds/AthingcalledR
Summary: "And you know, I'm flirting with this guy, I'm a little buzzed, when Stanley's car comes driving onto the beach..."It's 2006. A 17-year-old Paul Matthews attends a party, when things take a turn for the worst.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Stanley (Black Friday), Bill & Paul Matthews
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Poor Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the beginning of chapter 13 in another fic of mine called Between (which was meant to be more canon compliant but I figured, hey, it's my fic), but I thought it also worked as it's own little thang so I thought I might as well post it by itself. Hope you enjoy my headcanon!

**Friday, May 12th, 2006 – 10:23 pm**

Paul’s eyes flitted anxiously around the gathering. He couldn’t believe his luck when he got invited to a party, and had practically counted down the hours until the end of the week finally arrived. It was everything he anticipated, as well as a lot more he never bargained for. He couldn’t see anyone from Sycamore, most of the people appeared to be from Hatchetfield High, leaving Paul completely out of his depth. He didn’t know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that no one seemed to be giving him any notice.

He sat down on a log and stared at the bonfire, picking up a beer from one of the many six packs someone had dumped on the sand. A loud teen in a varsity jacket had driven his pickup onto the beach and had the radio on full volume. It was playing some rock song Paul had never heard, and the majority of people were clustered around it, jumping and dancing around in the firelight. As he was watching them, one of the dancers broke away. She was laughing, and walked with an unsteady gait, teetering breathlessly over to the log Paul was sitting on. He moved over a couple of inches to give her some more room, and averted his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for someone to think he was staring at them.

The girl picked up her own beer and cracked it open. Sitting in front of the fire, still catching her breath, she looked alive, free, _confident_ , everything Paul realised he didn’t. He began to feel very out of place.

She met his gaze and he looked away again, blushing slightly at being caught. He wanted to go home. The girl nudged him playfully.

“I don’t think I recognise you,” she called over the noise of the party. “Are you like a new student or something?”

“No,” he called back. “I just go to Sycamore.” That wasn’t going to win him any brownie points, but he didn’t see how he could just lie to her. She did seem taken aback, but once that passed she gave him a wide grin.

“We’ll just tell everyone you’re from out of town, okay? What’s your name?”

“It’s Paul, Paul Matthews.”

“Hi Paul Matthews,” she said with a giggle. He winced, not knowing why he felt the need to include his last name, as if this was a formal event. “I’m Becky, Becky Barnes.” Paul smiled at her good humour. He hadn’t expected her to be so nice to him. She gestured at the rest of the party. “Do you know anyone here?”

“Not really.” He knew he sounded pathetic, but Becky Barnes didn’t seem the disingenuous type, he doubted she would judge him.

Just then, she took his arm and pulled him to his feet. “C’mon, let’s go and talk to my friends, you look like you could use some company.” 

She guided him through the crowd until they made it to a small sand dune, on which a group of girls were sat, talking amongst themselves.

“Guys, this is Paul, he’s from out of town.” Becky gave him a wink. “He doesn’t really know anyone here.” The girls looked at him. Again, he felt uncomfortable; they looked like they didn’t understand why Becky had brought him over, and as if they had no desire to speak with him.

“He looks a little young,” said the girl farthest from them. She was speaking to Becky, but kept her eyes on Paul, staring at him with as unidentifiable expression. “Hey kid, how old are you?”

_Lie. You’re 18, you’re an adult, you go to parties like this all the time._ “17.” _Fuck._

The girls giggled, with the one who spoke to him not breaking eye contact. “You’re my sister’s age,” she observed. For some reason, the others also found this funny, and the girls giggled even more, a chorus of snide judgement. One of them tapped the first girl on her shoulder.

“Hey, why isn’t she here?” she asked through her laughter. “Too stoned or too stupid to find the beach?” Paul expected the first girl to be offended at someone poking fun at her sister, but to his surprise, she was unphased.

“Actually, she’s grounded. Though, I daresay that’s because of one of those things.” She smirked, pleased with herself and pleased with how her remarks amused the others. Even Becky let out a little chuckle. It didn’t sit right with Paul, making fun of someone who wasn’t there to defend themselves. He was about to go back to sitting by the bonfire when Becky’s arm grabbed his wrist. She pulled him in the direction he was intending to move, and together they left the group of girls and made their way back to the centre of the party.

Becky stooped down to pick up another beer having incredibly already finished hers (Paul had barely touched the one in his hand). Rather than sit back down, she stood facing him, studying his face. It was only slightly awkward, and Paul took a swig of his drink just for something to do. 

“You know, you don’t look 17,” she said after a moment. Paul wasn’t surprised; he’d always been tall for his age. “Don’t listen to the others, they’re just teasing.”

For some unknown reason, Paul’s brain decided to switch off at this remark, and he was left facing this girl with absolutely no clue of what to say to her. He immediately realised that his silence would most likely come across as creepy, so it became absolutely imperative that he say something.

He nodded his head at the burning pile of driftwood. “Cool fire.” _Stupid_. Becky giggled. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like she was giggling _at_ him.

“Yeah, yeah I guess you're right. Great mood lighting.” The dancing amber flames cast a soft glow over everything the light touched. Looking at Becky, he noticed how it matched the exact colour of her hair, making the edges shimmer.

“It’s given you a halo,” he noted, before realising what an utter dweeb that made him sound like. By some miracle, she seemed to approve of his remark.

“Wow, you’re a real smooth talker, you know that right?” This confused Paul, but then Becky put her hand on his arm and his brain switched off again. “You got yourself a girl back at Sycamore?” she asked. He struggled for an answer, but was interrupted by a commotion behind them.

People were shouting and scrambling around in the sand, desperately trying to avoid the car that came barreling down the beach. Becky’s hand tightened its grip on his arm, and he pushed her behind him as it came closer. It veered to a stop in front of them, and a furious man jumped out, slamming the door behind him. He jabbed a finger at them. 

“Who the _fuck_ is this?!” he yelled. Paul was a deer in literal headlights. Becky stepped out from behind him.

“This is Paul, he’s just a friend.” The man’s eyes didn’t leave his face. He was a couple of inches shorter than Paul, but he had no doubt that this man would be much, much stronger than him. “Stanley, calm down.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down!”

“You know this guy?” Paul asked her. As terrifying as the situation had become, it made no sense. Becky ignored him.

“Please, Stanley, people are watching.”

“Get in the car, Becky.”

“Stan-“

“I said get in the FUCKING CAR!”

Paul watched her run, wanting more than anything for her to go in the opposite direction, away from the so-called Stanley. He didn’t see him marching towards him, and the fist that crashed into his stomach was as shocking as it was painful. He bent double, only to have Stanley’s knee thrusted full force into his nose. His eyes instantly flooded, blurring his vision as he fell over backwards.

The fall knocked the air out of Paul’s lungs, worsened by Stanley kicking his side, then stomping on his chest when he tried to curl up into a defensive position. Before he knew what was happening, Stanley grabbed ahold of Paul’s shirt and yanked his upper body off the ground by a foot, and punched him, once, twice, three times, four times in the face. Paul felt himself drop back down to the floor. He became aware of a great deal of shuffling, and the glow from the fire was blocked out. In the distance, the car’s engine started, eventually fading into the distance.

Blinking profusely, Paul was unable to completely clear his sight. Someone – he thought he heard a man’s voice – was leaning over him, telling others to give him some room. The light from the fire returned, making it a little easier for Paul to see. The man above him was another partygoer, one Paul hadn’t yet seen. He had a very soothing voice, even if Paul couldn’t yet understand what he was saying.

The man helped him sit up and held out a tissue for him. This made no sense to Paul, until he brought a hand up to his chin and felt the blood dripping down it. He took the tissue, trying his best to mumble out a thank you. The world around him was becoming gradually clearer, and soon enough he was able to register what the kind man was saying.

“What’s your name, buddy?” The crowd had mostly dispersed. Someone had switched off the music and only a few curious stragglers remained on the beach.

“I’m Paul,” he replied, as clearly as he could through the tissue.

“Okay Paul, my name’s Bill. Listen, is there anyone I can call for you? Or do you need a ride somewhere, Paul?” Paul thought about this for a moment. His dad was working, and his mom was visiting Paul’s Grandmother in Clivesdale, meaning it would be a while before either of them would be able to pick him up. On the other hand, he only lived about a five-minute drive away from the beach. 

“I could use a ride, yeah. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Of course, my girlfriend and I can give you a lift if you want. Now, let’s get you to your feet.”

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about writing this when I realised that Paul said he knew Becky Barnes in that little kickstarter promo vid, and I like thinking about the Hatchetfield characters we haven't met (yet...) (alsoIthinkGraceChastityisanecromancerbutwhatever).   
> In other news, Bill seemed like the high school sweetheart type, especially since they don't always work out. Oh, and I wonder who that girl could've been...


End file.
